


Chronicles of a Champion - An Elder Scrolls IV:Oblivion fanfiction

by TheDovah



Series: Chronicles of a Champion - An Elder Scrolls IV fanfiction [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-05 18:39:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20493428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDovah/pseuds/TheDovah
Summary: Skjari, Hero of Kvatch, Champion of Cyrodiil and a damn good warrior. These are the events of the Oblivion Crisis as written by her. Her adventures, her tests and troubles. Her ups and downs. All of this is one woman's recollections of her deeds.





	1. Chapter 1

People ask me “Skjari, what were you before you saved our arses?” For years, i've kept my silence because I merely don't care for the past but every tale has it's hero. I guess, I'm that hero. The woman that saved Kvatch, saved Cyrodiil. Doesn't bloody feel like it. Here in Anvil, I have decided to record everything. My memory has served me well and the Blades have given me the go ahead to write about my time. You may not believe some of my words or elect to think that I am making this up because I'm a nord. Do whatever you want, whether I am the hero you claim to be or a glorified errand girl, only you can decide. Me? I merely did my duty.

Year 432, Last Seed – Cyrodiil

Ah, the province of Cyrodiil, the place I was born and raised in. The heart of the Septim Empire. Don't let it's exterior fool you, for within it is a blackened heart. Roving gangs of bandits are a constant issue despite our attempts to wipe them out. The biggest gang was the Green Dragon gang, made up of Nords, Khajit, Bosmer,Dunmer and Orcs. They terrorised the goldcoast for years and we had been sent to put them down. This is where my fate was decided, where the Nine Divines picked me as their weapon against Mehrunes Dagon. Heh, looking back, I should have known that Talos was smiling down on me.

“Sir, I must protest your decision.” We were gathered in the Legate's tent. He was a slimy prick who bought his position and his father was a damn captain in the Imperial City guard. He thought he was smarter then he was and wasted time on entertaining guests then doing his job. Gods, I hated that bastard and by sheer dumb luck, I was having to serve under him. Sure, I technically served him as a result of him being Legate of the 1st legion but this was the first time I was serving directly under him. People assume that the Legion is just one massive army and in that regard, they are correct. But the legion is split into several, the numbers are merely there to indicate that number. The 1st to 3rd legions were the home legions and mostly wore full plate armour. Our weapons weren't designed for sieges, we didn't go on campaigns. We were there to guard and protect the heart. I was the senior centurion of the 3rd Cohort. Each Cohort was made up of 100 men and on that day, we only had 3. What a fucking mess.

“Centurion, whether you protest it or not, I don't care. My decision is final.” His friends looked down on me as if I were a mere gutter rat instead of a centurion. I still recall his blond hair, his round fat cheeks, his narrow eyes to this very day. Sure, he could wield a sword but he had no head for tactics. “Fuck you, sir.” Oh, how I wish I said that but truth was, I didn't stand up against him. I was outnumbered, had no authority and had to suck it up. Maybe, if I caused such a fuss, I could have stopped a slaughter. 

We were outnumbered. We did not expect to face five thousand bandits and skilled ones at that. They were holed up in a fort overlooking a hill and had the advantage. Half of them had bows and were waiting for us to get into range. The meeting was more of a fierce discussion and I knew that the other Centurions were pissed. Their eyes betrayed their feelings and confirmed it when we were alone. “Skjari, I'm thinking of sending a rider to the general to beg for more.” I recall Sven the bold telling me in private. That man lived up to his name, he never held back in combat and had smashed several shield walls. Damn, I miss him and I know he was smiling upon me from Sovngarde on many occasions. 

“3rd COHORT!” I yelled as the battle began and heard the other cohorts being issued orders. “TODAY, THE GREEN DRAGON DIES! THEY THINK US WEAK, THEY WANT US TO DIE BUT WE ARE LEGION! WE ARE THE FIST AND SHIELD OF URIEL SEPTIM! SHIELD WALL!” Our shields interlocked with the other. I crouched with the round shield over my left arm. A soldier interlocked his with me and we formed a 4 shield high wall. It wasn't perfect but their arrows would have a hard time touching us. It began with a volley of arrows. I heard the thudding of the iron as the arrows bounced off. “STEADY, LADS!” I yelled as I looked through the small gap, no bigger then a fist. The plan was fucked from the start. It was meant to encourage the bandits to charge us then get ran down by the calvary, which, the Legate happened to be a part of. Coward. 

They didn't and we took our first major blow when a boulder was thrown at us. They had no trebuchets, as I found out later but a few mages. I heard the screams as our right flank was smashed then it began. The arrows ceased as fireballs smashed into our fronts. The shield wall is one of the best and worst positions to be in. You are the first line of defense and can't swing a sword but you can thrust at your enemy. The longer it holds, the weaker your enemy grows and makes them open for attack by calvary. The wall wasn't holding and within the space of 5 minutes, it disintegrated. “fuck it.” I uttered as I felt the wall shudder under a volley of arrows. It wasn't from above but in front of us. It would be risky but we were failing and I be damned if I stood there whilst men and women died. “3rd COHORT! KILL THE FUCKERS! CHARGE!” I ordered and charged. We formed a wedge and rushed them. The shock of our sudden charge caused their archers to hesitate as we ran them down. I felt my steel puncture the chainmail of a nord then ducked as an elf tried to remove my head from my shoulders. I blocked the blow of an orc and pushed the spike into his chest then stabbed rapidly. “KILL THEM!” I yelled as an arrow bounced off my helmet. 

“WHERE'S THE FUCKING CALAVARY!” I yelled as I hacked my way through the enemy. We were dying due to numbers overwhelming us. I yelled and grunted as I ducked and hacked an elf and nord to death. “DEATH OR SOVNGARDE!” It didn't make sense but I was prone to feeling the song of battle. It's hard to explain but I shall. We, nords, are renowned for our love of fighting and we go to Sovngarde if we fall in battle. Sometimes, we feel it. The very nature of battle flow through our veins and make us immune to fear. It can blind us to other emotions and is said to make us even more dangerous on the field. Whatever it is, I felt it. “HAAARGH!” I ducked and thrusted my sword through the leather of another bandit then smashed the rim of my shield. Still no charge. “LEGATE, YOU BASTARD!” I roared as I blocked a greatsword but was knocked off my feet by a fireball. I rolled. 

It must have been an hour before I got knocked out. I recall cursing a lot, fighting like Talos himself despite being wounded. I saw Sven take down 5 bandits by himself after his cohort was slaughtered. The last thing I recalled was my shoulders bleeding, my right eye being sliced by a dagger and my nose being broken before I made one final charge. I made it to the ridge to their leader and was easily defeated. 

Death would have been kinder.


	2. Prologue - Escape and Arrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skjari is defeated and endures confinement at the hands of the Green Dragon gang. The hands of fate determine her destiny and place her in the right place for the right time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This is just her backstory. I know the pacing is a bit rushed as I didn't want to spend too much time on the second part. The next part will be far slower and more detailed. Enjoy! Leave comments, kudos and cookies. Note: Future stories will be spellchecked. Openoffice seems to lack it and this is just me wanting to get the story out of the way.

The stench of the cell filled my nostrils. Oh, sure, it was blood, grime and bodily fluids but defeat was the only smell. Instead of dying in a desperate attack to kill the leader, I was confined to a tiny cell with barely enough light to see my own hand. They deprived me of the steel curiass that made Centurions stand out from the grunts and crudely treated my wounds. My vision was blurry as I came to. My right side was completely blank and I dared not to touch the eye. The cloth that covered it was wet. It stung, just like my pride. 

It was two weeks since the defeat and they were celebrating non-stop, judging by the sounds I could hear. Truth be told, there's little of note for me to recall. They forced me to fight as their gladiator and that is why they kept me alive. I was privately thankful for not being given the OTHER fate for female prisoners but I was stubborn. I headbutted their leader as soon as he came to my cell. The shackles around my ankles and wrists prevented my escape. Looking back, I would have been happy to die in a foolish attempt to escape that rancid place.

Still, fate is everything and it cannot be denied. My fate was not to perish in the cells but to survive. The first fight was easy. A scrawny Bosmer who wasn't used to fighting a real soldier. He was a show off and made a lot of noise. He promised that he would have me screaming in agnoy as he tore my flesh from my face. That I would be violated with his spear. All talk and no action. The screaming happened when I pierced his ribcage with the rusty iron that they forced upon me. Bastards loved it and for the next few months, I was their entertainment. Fight after fight, days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months.

At the time, I did not know it but they were working with the order that would be bringing about the Oblivion Crisis. It was winter when I heard their leader discussing plans for the cities. How the Green Dragon would overwhelm Anvil and slaughter it's people. Cowards. 

“Here.” A lump of roasted goat was hurled at me. They kept me alive on gruel and to call it gruel is a kindness. I don't know what they put in it or made it out of and still don't want to know. It was sour, stank like a senator's word and kept me in top shape. Our rations are awful, hard salted meat that is impossible to swallow unless you chew it repeatly. Fortunately, being stationed in Cyrodiil has it's perks and I never had the misfortune of having to survive on it. Our food were roast chickens with vegetables or grilled leeks with grapes. It's excessive but the Legion does have it's perks. 

It was the opening days of the year 433, the year of Akatosh when I made my escape. They believed I was broken and posed no threat thus allowing me to walk to their 'ring'. If there is one thing the Legion repeatly drills into you, it is to never give up. During my confinement, I recalled the hours of drilling, the insults by the instructor for messing up a formation. The aching of my muscles after hours of using a lead lined wooden sword to hit a dummy. They issued us with them to get us used to the weight and develop our muscles. Sure, some soldiers may not look like it but they are stronger then one may suspect. 

The first bandit to die was an orc. “I have 400 septims riding on this, whore.” He told me in an attempt to get me to lose it. I was somewhat of a popular attraction. See the centurion fight for her food. See her struggle against fully armoured foes! They died because I fought dirty. No shame in it and that would later serve me well. 

I swung my sword around in an arc and sliced through his neck. I felt it hit the muscles of the neck and sever the tendons. I took his sword in return and made a break for it. It was one of the toughest things i've done and I barely had any armour. Just a rusted pauldron, a pair of greaves that I will continue to maintain that it was rust on them and a vanbrace made out of leather. How I got out of there? I can't recall. All I know is that I ran and hacked my way through anyone that tried to stop me. Maybe, ten fell. Maybe. I was better trained, more aggressive and engulfed by the song of battle. 

What I do remember is the leader's lackey chasing me down on a horse. I was running down the ridge in front of the fort and heard the approaching horse. I recall a threat involving my corpse and his prick but I was focused. He believed me to be an easy kill. His battleaxe was held in his left hand and was waiting to be swung as soon as he got into range. I took several deep breaths as I turned around to stand my ground. A stupid move at the best of times. Even our armour in the Legion would struggle to stop it but I wasn't planning on letting him hit me. “AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!” I roared, abeit with diffculty as my parched lips struggled to emit the sound I wanted. I waited as the seconds went by. Closer. Closer. I leapt over the axe and held the sword in both hands. It got stuck in his neck as it connected. I crashed face first into the ground. He came off worse.

The battleaxe was claimed by me and I must have walked for hours. I was picked up by a patrol and as fate would have it. My dear ol' legate's camp was nearby. I was questioned by him and had overheard gossip. Apparently, I was the one who fucked everything up. I was the one who caused 300 men and women to die. 

The slimely prick questioned me for details in his tent. All sorts of luxuries were around it and he must have been sent to deal with the Green Dragon. “Oh, sir?” I waited as I got closer. “Yes, citizen?” His voice was bored. He was looking down on me and the matted hair, the filth on my arms and legs, the scar over my right eye. It helped to disguise my appearance. He never saw the dagger that ended his life. Well, he did but only as he choked on it. “This is for everyone you got killed!” I growled as it pierced his throat. His eyes told me that he knew who I was and I should have been slain on the spot. By sheer chance, the Blades were interested in why the Legion had lost 300 men. They had sent an undercover agent under the guise of an Optio. The shock of my actions merely bought me 5 seconds and had he not realised that I partially resembled the centurion who got the cohorts wiped out, I would be in Sovngarde. I grinned as I watched him choke. I twisted the dagger in his throat as I clasped my left hand around his left side of the face. “Fuck. You. Sir.” 

So, I was arrested before I could get hacked apart and that's how I came to the Imperial Prison. It was far better then my previous cell and the rags were an improvement. I kept myself focused via excerising whilst the Blades conducted their own investigation. The hand of fate moves in odd ways and it was by sheer chance that I ended up in the cell that would aid our emperor's escape.


	3. Imperial Prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skjari recalls her time in the Imperial Prison. The beatings she saw, the mundane days and the prologue of her destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This is meant to cover the conditions of the prison and show an insight into the character. It is set just before the very first quest of Oblivion. The next story is where Skjari's tale starts fully. Enjoy!
> 
> This is now rated Mature as a precaution. Combat is gonna to get more gory and more detailed. It shall be realistic and potentially more mature themes.

The air was stale and the ground bare. The three bars at the top allowed a fair amount of light into the cell. It had been a week since I murdered the Legate in cold blood and I had hoped to die afterwards. My career was over and I would be fortunate to wield a sword again, let alone become a sell-sword. The prison in the Imperial City is one of the largest in the province and designed to be impossible to escape from, if you happened to unlock your cell door. You would have to avoid the 500 strong garrison that was on constant patrols, make your way past the entrance and hurl yourself off the bridge to the rest of the city. Or fight your way out and pray that they didn't send a message to the rest of the legion. The prison consists of several floors with 100 cells and corridors designed to funnel escape attempts into a shield wall. Even if you got past the stairs leading up to the nearest entry, you would find yourself outnumbered, unarmed and faced with bored guards. Sure, they don't see much action and some are as plump as pigs but they retain their training. Even the worst guard can take down a single escaping prisoner. 

The sack cloth garments that they gave me were a welcome relief as I was processed. I could feel their hatred flow through their eyes. Their breathing betraying their wishes to see me dangle on a rope, their fists clenching indicating a desire to beat me to death. Committing a crime is bad enough and often results in 'STOP RIGHT THERE CRIMINAL SCUM!' but to be part of the legion and commit a crime? That makes it personal for the guards of the Imperial City. The heart and voice of the Empire. The city of golden voices. “Shove her into the room over there.” A grey haired fat imperial told the Blade. “Listen, Maximus, I'm entrusting YOU with her safety. If I come back to find her throat slit or dying of a sudden illness or any signs of foul play, I'll personally execute you on the spot.”

Blades. The Emperor's spies, bodyguards and agents of the Empire. They were feared by the corrupt and admired by most of the legion. Many hoped to join the order in the belief that it was a nice cosy job. A massive rise in pay, comfortable lodgings and the authority of Uriel Septim VII. To the public, they are just bodyguards. The Legion viewed them as glorified soldiers and as I later learnt, it was best to hide out in the open. Be everywhere and no-where. Be the eyes and feet of the empire. 

I was dragged off to the room whilst a cell was found for me. It was dark and only had a single wooden chair. “Oh shit.” I uttered as I realised what was about to happen. As soon as the Blade had left and they were confident, the father of the bastard entered. His hair greying at the temples, the top of his head lacking the hair. His eyes had bags around it and his stubble was thick. “You killed my son.” He uttered in a cold fury. Bound by chain to the sides of the room, I was helpless. “You cost our empire 300 men!” The first punch connected with my nose and once again, it broke. His gauntlet made every punch hurt worse then my pride. I clamped my lips to prevent any signs of pain. I grunted as he threw a punch into my right temple and felt my vision going blurry for a few seconds. “You killed my only SON!” he punched me in the throat and still, I maintained my posture. 

It took an hour before I passed out from the assaults of guard captain Lex. Fate would decree that we would meet again. He was a pissant.

So, I was tossed into the cell and left to rot. Fortunately, I was not chained to the wall and could exercise in the cell. It must have been early morning when I came to and felt various welts on my face. My nose had been crudely fixed and pained me. I felt bruises all over my body. “Bastard.” I uttered as I slowly pushed myself off the floor and slumped against the bricks. I did not know what the moisture was on the bricks but I did not believe it was water. The moonlight barely covered my cell. Unfortunately, I attracted the attention of a dunmer in the opposite cell. Upon noticing me, he began to taunt me. “Oooh, aren't you a fair lass. Your skin is so pale, so pure. And your body is so... strong. Let me guess. A Nord, right? I bet you think you're pretty tough, huh? I bet you can swing a sword and everything. Well, it doesn't matter! Not in here. It does no good to fight. But don't worry. The guards always treat the pretty ones nice. Right 'til the end. Oh, that's right. You're going to die in here, Nord!” I had walked up to the bars of the door. “Dunmer, if I ever get out. I will slowly kill you. Your desperate breaths as you claw at me will be sweet nectar. Your head slowly feeling like it is about to explode as I slowly squash your neck like an orange and as you realise that the nord is too strong, you will void your stomach of it's contents before I snap your pathetic neck like a twig.” I growled and spoke with a deeper voice to shut him up. It worked for a time. 

A few days later, I got a beating for it. Some of the guards loved to play beat up the prisoners and the name, Valen Dreth was often on their mind. These excuses for guards were power crazed and had they done it in a cohort, they would have been flogged to an inch of their life. You never abuse your prisoners. You serve with honour. You do not defy the honour of the empire! I found myself gripped with anger upon the first beating I saw and called them cowards. They loved to issue late night beatings and threatening their pet was the first excuse that they needed. It was midnight, judging by the darkness. I was roused from my sleep via cold water and three guards were in front of the stone ledge that served as a bed. They threw me onto the floor and kicked me repeatly. I resisted the urge to curl up into a ball in order to protect myself. I foolishly threw a punch when I saw my chance and it got me a severe assault. They spat on me afterwards and poured the contents of the bucket over me. I would endure this for 6 months but I am a soldier. I mentally recalled my training to pass the tedium. I did push-ups, press-downs. I jogged up and down in my cell. I used the bars to heave myself up and down. At least, I did until they mistook it for an escape attempt and struck me in the back with the flat of their sword. Just by forcing myself to drill myself, I kept myself sane.

It was the closing days of Last Seed, the year of Akatosh and the the empire would change. The steps of destiny were about to be undertaken. This is where my story truly begins and looking back, I am not proud of some of the stuff I did. I was angry, I was foolish and stubborn. I grew overconfident. I am not the champion you deserve but the one you needed. My path started on the 27th of Last Seed, 433.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skjari's fate is decided and the Nine Divines put her onto the path. An Emperor falls, a test of her skills and almost impossible odds are faced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be two more stories that cover the death of Uriel Septim VII and the end of Part one of the fanfiction. If I can figure out how to create part two. Each part will be focusing on a major event in the game. Some parts will be longer then others. Enjoy!

The iron manacles around my wrists were cold as usual. They left it on in case I ever 'needed to be restrained'. My body was still in top condition but I was often in pain. The beatings were occuring on a nightly basis and the Blade that had arrested me did not return. Was I forgotten or deemed a waste of time? The answer is simple. The man had been murdered in Kvatch by an agent of our enemy. But i'm getting ahead of myself. Sure, you all know the name and even now, there are reports of mobs assaulting a cave to kill the traitors but the empire had no idea what it was about to face. How could it? Only Uriel Septim knew and he couldn't do anything. Or perhaps he did and feared making it worse? Only Uriel Septim knew what Uriel Septim did.

Ah, the Septims. The greatest rulers of the third age. Ok, maybe not all great but Uriel Septim VII was the best leader we had. He resolved disputes without resorting to much violence and had brought Tamriel closer to peace. He was kidnapped by his own battle-mage and for ten years, was imprisoned in another realm. For ten years, Jagar Tharn impersonated him until someone freed the emperor and slew the imposter. It is a common tale of valour where magic fought magic at the top of the white tower until he was thrown downwards. Then there was the crisis in the west but I don't understand anything that occurred there and I tried to. The business with the so called Nevarraine in Vvanderfell had his hands involved. He was wise and knew how to push people to their destinies. He was the most popular emperor and inspired fierce loyalty. My homeland, Skyrim, would fight and die for him at a single command but he wasn't interested in conquering Akaviri or seeking pointless glory. He cared for his empire and the day he died was the most important day of my life.

Anyway, it was early morning when I heard the creaking of the door. “My sons.... they are dead, aren't they?” I recognised that voice but I dismissed it as my mind playing tricks. “Oh piss off.” I uttered to myself. It was filled with sadness and exhaustion. “Sire, the messenger only said that they were attacked.” A female imperial responded. “No, they're dead. I know it” I knew it wasn't my mind playing tricks on me. I sat up on my stone bed. My back aching as usual. Half of my vision coming into focus and the itching of my right eye reminded me of it's loss. So, I stood up and walked up to the door. His voice was grief stricken. “My job is to get you to safety, sire.” The female replied. “Renault, you've been a loyal friend and Blade. I am honoured by your presence on this day.” His tone changed. It was as if he knew his burdens would come to an end and he was content to rest. “Sire, you honour me.” The faint orange of the torch came into view. “Baurus, lock that door. We don't need to be arse deep in the fuckers.” A soldier's voice and former legionnaire. I recalled thinking. We weren't afraid to be blunt when we were facing the prospect of having to do our duty. “Yes, sir.” The redguard sounded young, his accent was mixture of Hammerfell and Anvil. He couldn't be older then two decades. These were my thoughts as I observed. “This... is the prison.” The Emperor commented with a deep sigh. “Sire, the escape route.” Captain Renault informed him as they approached my cell. “What the fuck? This cell is meant to be left empty at all times. I'll have someone's arse for dinner!” The soldier growled as he unsheathed his sword. 

“Glenroy, back down. You, prisoner!” The imperial's face was worn with wrinkles and years of combat etched onto it. A faint scar over her left eye. “Yes, ma'am.” I stood to attention. “Get over there. We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way.” I recognised the tone as one of a centurion and obeyed her. I marched over to the far end of the cell as she turned the key in the cell. “Your majesty!” I exclaimed in disbelief and knelt before him as they entered. “You. I've seen you.” His voice was filled with surprise and hope. Hope because he found me? Perhaps stress and grief were playing tricks. My mind was running rapidly as it tried to think of what he was saying. “Sire?” I responded. “You're the one from my dreams.” He gestured for me to stand. “Let me see your face.” He gently cupped my chin with his left hand and smiled. “You're the one.” He uttered. The Blades were preoccupied with jamming the door. I heard the familiar sound of a metal spike being rammed through the lock. Valen was oddly silent on this night. He loved to hurl insults whenever he got bored but he suddenly became wise.

“Then this is the day.” The Emperor's face was filled with exhaustion. His eyes showed me how tired he was. His skin was wrinkled and his hair white. There was a sadness in his eyes and not because of his sons being murdered. No, he was sad because of the burden he felt he was shoving onto me. I could tell just by looking into them and I think, he wanted me to know that if he could avert fate, he would have done so. 

“The stars are right and today is the day.” He inhaled and exhaled as if he was bracing himself for something. “Gods give me strength.” He looked at me. “Sire, what's happened?” I foolishly enquired. I was a criminal and here I was, ASKING the emperor. I was unworthy of even looking at him but I couldn't stop myself. “Assassins have attacked my sons and I am next. By chance, the escape route leads through your cell.” He replied as if I were merely a student and he, a scholar. “You have my bl...fists.” I clumsy retorted. This bought a faint smile to his face. “What is your name?” He enquired. “Skjari, former Centurion of the third cohort of the 1st Legion.” I stood to attention. “Skjari, I've heard about you and I do not believe the reports. I wish we could have spoken in person and dealt with that tragic incident but the gods have dictated otherwise. As one of my last acts as emperor of Tamriel, I, Uriel Septim, hereby decree that you are pardoned of all crimes that have been committed. My blades serve as witnesses.” Glenroy sneered before realising and clenched his fist. “Sire, that's...” I was shocked. “You'll need your strength for the coming storm.” Glenroy let out a small cheer as he located the brick that would open the escape route. The wall slowly pulled itself back to reveal a darkened corridor. “Sire, we must keep moving. YOU, Prisoner, do not get in our way.” She warned me. “Glenroy, take the front with Baurus. I'll take the rear.” The young redguard made a comment about it being my lucky day and I was petty enough to issue a final sentence to Valen. “Guess what, elf? You're gonna to rot in here.” It was petty and a small victory. 

The air was cold and the floor was paved with big stone slabs. I followed at a distance out of caution. I dared not to impose myself for fear of being cut down by the Blades. “DEFEND THE EMPEROR!” I heard as I ventured further down the corridor and the long forgotten sounds of battle. It felt like that, at least. Sword clashing against sword. Grunting and screaming. 

I entered the chamber and saw 40 people in red cloaks. Half of them were dead and I wasted no time in launching myself at the nearest one. I charged and lowered my head as the thug swung the strange mace at me. My hand went around his throat and picked him up. I slammed him into the ground with the faint crack of his skull. I could not remember if I was that strong or just lucky but it was good to be in a fight again. 

I went to pick up the mace and it disappeared! The damn thing was a summoned weapon. The captain was holding her own against five. Glenroy was slaughtering them with his strange blade and the redguard was defending the emperor. I had two of the enemy converge on me. I knew I couldn't win without a weapon and so, I did a stupid thing. I hurled my body at them as they raised their left hands in the air and red energy began to swirl around them. They fell backwards as our bodies crashed. I quickly retrieved the dagger from the right thug's waist and rapidly stabbed his chest. I roared in anger before embedding the dagger into his chest. The other had been knocked out but I slit their throat with their dagger. 

I heard a loud gasp from the corner. I ran along surface of the top wall and saw Renault getting her chest stabbed with a red and black greatsword. She had slain her five attackers but more appeared from behind her. She was dead before she hit the ground. “YOU BASTARD!” Glenroy roared as he booted his attacker in the chest, causing them to collapse to the ground. I hurled my body at a nearby group and felt them hit the floor. It was stupid and could have gotten me killed. It should have! But the shock of having someone throwing their own body at their group worked in my favour. I rolled backwards, albeit clumsily and spotted a discarded dagger. I rolled to the left as a mace came down and heard the stone crack with some faint sizzling. “Your soul shall please the master.” The voice of the mace uttered as he swung it but a trained soldier will always beat a fool with a weapon and on that day, that fool died. I waited until the last moment and jumped aside. I thrusted the dagger into his throat and felt his blood flood my wrist. Glenroy and the redguard charged the rest. I knew to stand back and so I did. In total, there must have been 60 and I learnt why the Blades are selective in their recruitment. Every man and woman must be capable of overcoming the odds. 60, 100, it wouldn't make a difference. A Blade was worth several legionnaires and their strange blades tore through the fabrics of the red cloaks like a knife through butter. 

“Good work, prisoner.” I nodded in response. “Captain renault?” Uriel enquired and I could not believe how no-one had gotten near him. Three against 60. Impressive. “She's dead, sire. I'm sorry but we've got to keep moving.” Glenroy tested the thick wooden door. “These shall hold.” He commented as he unlocked it. “Here you must find your own path. But we will cross paths before the end, I am sure of it.” The emperor informed me. “Yes, sire.” I looked around and knew that I would go no further. “Prisoner, don't follow us or we will kill you.” Baurus warned me. “Understood.” I watched them leave through the door and heard it lock behind them. I walked over to the fallen blade's body. “You did your duty.” I folded her arms across her chest and picked up the strange weapon, along with a steel shortsword. 

I tested the weapon with my right hand. It was light and felt as if only the hilt existed. It was embroided with light gold and the imperial dragon. The emblem of the blades were faintly etched. “I will protect him.” I told Renault. “May you go to Sovngarde.” It was pointless but I thought it as a way of showing respect. “Oh shit.” I uttered as I heard the sounds of more attackers making their way. “KILL THEM ALL!” One roared as she jumped down and straight into the steel sword. I jumped backwards with both blades in my hand.

The shortsword is best for thrusting and slicing. It wasn't something I would use, as I favoured the longsword but it was useful. So, I had a shortsword in my left hand and a weapon, that I later found out was called, a Katana. 

Fortunately for me, there were only ten and one had fallen. They formed a half-circle. “Keep her alive for information.” The tallest one ordered. I grinned at the chance of unleashing my anger. A way to redeem myself or die trying. They weren't soldiers. I was and I was prepared to stand my ground. “None may pass.” I uttered as I gripped the handles of both weapons. The first one to charge me was easily parried and I felt the steel puncture his lung. The second attacker cried out as I sliced through the muscle of her wrist with a downwards diagonally strike with the katana. I fought to wound. At first and they were sloppy. They also wanted me alive. It worked in my favour. Fate was on my side.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skjari continues her escape from the prison and encounters some lovely people.

The screaming served as my song. It echoed throughout the chamber as the fourth person ventured forward. He was smaller, timid but smart. He tested my defences by lightly throwing a strike at me and stepping back when I parried it. “For the dawn!” He weakly shouted or perhaps, his youth prevented him from roaring it like a man. Either way, we fought. I deflected his blows with ease and slew him after three minutes. “Pfft.” I fought the following two with barely an effort but the seventh was where it became interesting. Instead of using their foul weapons, the hooded woman blasted me backwards. I slammed against the heavy door. It felt like my insides were on fire. “GAAAAH!” I yelled as she slowly moved forward with blue bolts arcing towards me and continuing the pain. I had to get up. I must get up. Get up, you lazy bastard! It was my voice inside my mind.

Get the fuck up and do your job or I'll have your hide! I obeyed despite my flesh starting to burn. My lungs feeling like they were close to bursting. I gritted my teeth as I struggled to my feet. With a yell, I hurled the steel like a spear and it hit the heart. It wasn't my target, I merely wanted to by myself some time but sometimes, desperate moves can work. The next foe wasted no time in advancing on me and swung the black and red mace like a wildman. It was easy to stop. A mere swing of the katana and it would block it. However, I was recovering from the mage's attack and held the blade in both hands, above my shoulder. I allowed him to get near me and slew him with a vicious thrust. The blade pierced his chest like a spear and surprisingly quick to remove.   
The rest were easy to dispatch despite the pain I was in. I sat down on the cold stone steps to recover. “No wonder they favour you.” I remarked whilst examining the blooded edge of the weapon. “If we had you in the legion, we would have an easier time.” That was bull. Our longswords and shortswords are perfect for shield walls. 

The wall in the right corner collapsed without warning. “COME ON!” I roared as I leapt to my feet to face my foe. Rats. Just rats. “Really?” I was confused and tilted my head. I was expecting more but rats? That was just odd. 

After killing them with a swift strike to their heads, I peered into the dark room. It was a cave of some sorts. It stank of moisture, death and decay. I could just about make out the surroundings. I pondered staying in the chamber until either I was overwhelmed or arrested but Uriel Septim VII's words caused me to think otherwise. I crouched in order to climb into it and did not think what the soft substance my hand had touched, along with my knees. I stood and saw a well. A skeleton with rotten leather and a chest. I looked at the rusted bow and tested the string. “Useless.” I tossed it to one side and gently prised the chest open. “Good!” I exclaimed upon discovering a small coinpurse and a rusted key. A few lockpicks were there but too far gone. I spotted the corpse of a goblin and a small wooden door. “Ok.” I used the key and found myself in a passage. It resembled a ruin and I suspected I was underneath the city and under the hills. 

Nothing of note occurred during my travel until I came across a natural cavern. I found some jewels and a silver goblet that needed a good clean. These would fetch a good price and get me a nice room, I recall thinking. Here in Anvil, I possess more coin then I need but back then, I was broke. Every meal, every bed was a test.

I caught sight of a rat roasting over a fire and prised some of the hot flesh from it. It was sweet and tasted like chicken but it could have been an ox, for I savoured every bite. I proceeded with my journey and spotted a goblin, hunched over a crate. The familiar sound of flowers being grinded up filled my ears. Alchemcy, it's a skill looked down upon by most soldiers but I was taught it by my father. He's in Sovngarde now and one day, we'll fight, drink and argue but he knew the value of potions. “Skjari, you complain now but one day, you'll learn to appericate the art.” He told me. The arse wouldn't let me hear the end of it if he knew how much I appreciated it. 

The blade was ready as I slowly crouched. One foot placed in front of the other, left knee resting against the dirt. One step at a time. It only had a second to realise what was happening before I cut it's head off. 

I spotted a small sack nearby and peered into it. I picked up a brown bottle of beer and uncorked it. Foolish of me but at the time, I was thirsty and was glad to see beer. I savoured every drop. I shoved the mortar and pestle into it, along with the coinpurse. Using the rope from the goblin's waist, I tied the sack around my right shoulder and back. It wasn't great and the slightest cut would separate it but it freed both hands. 

I fought more goblins and it was easy, but their mage almost killed me. It was a lucky shot when it blasted me backwards and barely miss landing on the stakes that had the decapitated heads of it's kind on. 

Fate intervened or I was just lucky. Either way, the goblin mage died and I ventured forward. Forward to the start of my destiny.


	6. Death of an Emperor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skjari's fate is decided as the emperor dies and all hope is lost.

“Damnit!” Glenroy's voice echoed throughout the chamber as I crouched. “We should hole up here and wait for reinforcements.” He was doing what he believed to be the best option and I would have considered the same. The door to my cell was spiked but that just meant it merely delayed the assassins “What makes you think reinforcements will get here before more of these bastards?” Baurus was starting to panic. I could tell he wasn't used to this and had he done so in my cohort, I would have slapped sense into him. We didn't tolerate panic. We crafted our nerves out of steel and faced anything. 

“Calm down, Baurus.”   
“We should keep moving!”  
“Get you...DAMNIT, PROTECT THE EMPEROR!”

The sound of swords clashing echoed throughout the chamber and I moved forward. My back crouched, my feet slowly advancing. “DEATH TO THE SEPTIM!” The assassin's leader yelled as he leapt down with a battleaxe in his hands. Worse, he was wearing black Ebony platemail. Gods, I hated fighting people in full plate. It covers the entire body and unlike chainmail, can't be split by an axe. You can try to pierce it or bash the person to death with a mace but swords barely work against it. Ebony is the toughest armour you can get if you prefer heavy. It slows you down to a degree but the belief that it makes you as slow as the office of commerce is bull. You are still agile, you have to be in a battle. Otherwise, you're a person waiting to be killed. 

“COHORT!” I yelled. “HOLD POSITION!” I grinned as I observed from a small distance. They couldn't see me but I could survey the battleground. Everyone paused at my deception. “KILL THE BASTARDS!” I yelled as I sprinted to the edge and leapt with both hands around the hilt of the blade. I killed two of the redcloaks within the space of half a minute. The blade went through one's spine and I thrusted the dagger into the other's throat. “Kill the bitch. She's no legionnaire. Just a prisoner.” The leader growled as he swatted Glenroy aside with his axe. Baurus rushed to his side and slew several. More appeared. “Come on, big boy.” I parried the blade of the redcloak that tried to take advantage of me seemingly distracted and ignored her screams as I booted her to the ground after giving her a nice thrust to the throat. I meant to aim for her heart.

The orc insulted me as he advanced. His axe was made out of steel and to my relief, the handle was wooden. I hated fighting berserker. No-one in the legion relishes facing such as foe for they use sheer brute force and with a warhammer or battleaxe, shields rarely block them. At best, you can deflect it. Shieldwalls have fallen apart because of beserkers. Orcs are gifted with the ability to get stronger and go into an unstoppable rage. They don't feel pain, they see red and something to be killed. 

I was the something to be killed. Fortunately, it meant that the emperor wasn't the focus otherwise, we would have been in deeper shit. I backed away, cursing under my breath as I realised he was going into a rage. He was swinging wildly to stop me from even trying to attack him and forcing me on the defensive. I had no armour, no shield and a katana. Even if I were armoured and had a shield, I still would have a hard time.

I leapt to the right and swung my blade around at another redcloak. I heard him scream as his guts came loose but I didn't pay any attention. “COME ON!” I roared, mostly to keep his attention on me. 

He charged with the axe held high. I waited until the last second and rolled forward. I swung it from left to right upon exiting the roll and just as I expected, the blade merely scraped the metal. “Shit!” I yelled before getting a backhand for my trouble. I rolled away and got to my feet. My right cheek was bruised and despite having just one eye, my senses were still sharp. I impaled another redcloak without looking via a backwards thrust. The orc and I proceeded to dance for a while. He lunged, I dodged. I thrusted, he swatted it away. It was a dance of sword and axe. It would end with either one of us dead. 

I managed to break through his attack after getting backed up against a wall. I brought the blade up in a diagonally swung in a desperate attempt as he swung the axe towards my neck. It was fate that decreed that my blade would slice through the shaft and instead of cutting my head off. The head of the axe hit the wall. He headbutted me and grabbed my by the throat. He lifted me up with both hands and began to strangle me. I kicked and clawed at him as I felt my life starting to fade away. Remember your training. Do not give up. Do not give in to panic. But I'm fucked. NO, soldier. You were a centurion. Centurions do not die easily. They go down fighting. 

I grabbed his left wrist with both my hands as my head started to feel like it was about to explode. I knew I lacked the strength to break free but strength wasn't my goal. I kicked him in the balls and this time, he felt it. He staggered backwards and I planted both feet on his chest. My back slammed into the wall and I almost knocked myself out but it bought my time. I gasped for air afterwards. He was slow to get up, maybe it was shock, maybe I kicked him harder then I thought I did. My foot was filled with pain but I was taught to master my pain and ignore it. So, I inhaled and exhaled. As he rose, I charged. I tackled him and we tumbled. We exchanged punches and he tossed me across the room. “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!” he roared with his arms raised in the air. I spat some blood out and a tooth as I stood up. “FOR THE LEGION!” I yelled as we charged. The battle was over for the Blades and the emperor but they did not interfere in my fight. 

I ducked as the orc swung a right hook at me and I grunted as his knee hit me in the stomach. I hooked my arm around his left knee and with all my strength, I floored him with a yank. He rolled and got up before I could even strike him. We exchanged blows, he grabbed me by the throat and slammed me into the ground. I leapt up and planted both knees into his head. The fight must have lasted ten minutes but it felt like hours. I leapt over his charge and as soon as he turned around, I kicked him in the chin. He staggered and I ran at him. I jumped and hit his head with my arm. I rolled upon landing and grabbed the blade. He barely had time to react as my blade cut through his neck like butter. I was rewarded with a shower of blood for my victory.

“You're a tough bitch.” Glenroy remarked as he offered me a bit of cloth to wipe the blood away from my face. “No. Let them see me like this.” He grinned. He was a former legionnaire and he knew the value of appearance and how it can be used to scare an enemy. 

“Skjari comes with us.” Uriel ordered. “Sire, I must protest this decision. She's useful in a fight but we have no idea if we can trust her or not. She could be an agent...” “Glenroy, I trust her for I must. The nine placed her in the cell and as emperor, I must obey their wishes.” Glenroy backed down and Uriel turned to face me. They cannot understand why I trust you. They've not seen what I've seen. How can I explain? Listen. You know the Nine? How They guide our fates with an invisible hand? “ He enquired as Baurus tended to his and Glenroy's wounds. I didn't notice it until later but I took quite the beating and it was bloody lucky that I didn't suffer any broken bones.

“I do, sire. They guide and define us.” I responded with a bow, blood trickling down my face and hitting the stone floor like a raindrop. “I've served the Nine all my days, and I chart my course by the cycles of the heavens. The skies are marked with numberless sparks, each a fire, and every one a sign. I know these stars well, and I wonder... which sign marked your birth?” “The Warrior, sire.” 

I wondered why he asked me that and to this day, I still have no idea. Perhaps, he was curious, perhaps, he knew something about the Warrior. 

“The Warrior shall be your stalwart companion in the days to come and guide your hand.” He informed me as he placed a hand on my bruised shoulder. It took every effort from me to not wince at the pain. “The signs I read show the end of my path. My death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.” He knew he was going to die and was ready for it. “Not if I can help it, sire.” I blustered and he smiled. “No. The nine dictate that I must die and no trophies of my triumphs precede me. But I have lived well, and my ghost shall rest easy. Men are but flesh and blood. They know their doom, but not the hour. In this I am blessed to see the hour of my death... To face my apportioned fate, then fall” 

So we ventured on. Baurus gave me a torch and we faced little resistance. I slew a couple of the redcloaks with little trouble. The blades did the same. We came to a large chamber and this was the end of the route. “We're nearly there, sire.” Glenroy ordered us to stay put as he checked out the area ahead and gave us the clear to continue. “DAMNIT!” He yelled upon seeing the rusting gate barring our way. “Damnit, why is it shut?” Baurus growled. “The side passage.” The redguard offered. “It's worth a shot.” Glenroy lead us down it and it was a dead end. “Prisoner, Skjari, protect him with your life!” He ordered as the redcloaks swarmed into the chamber. I heard him and Baurus fighting as I crouched in the narrow corridor. “DEATH OR SOVNGARDE!” I yelled. I am a nord, after all. 

“My guards are strong and true, but even the might of the Blades cannot stand against the Power that rises to destroy us. The Prince of Destruction awakes, born anew in blood and fire. These cutthroats are but his mortal pawns.   
Take my Amulet. Give it to Jauffre. I have a secret son, and Jauffre alone knows where to find him.   
Find the last of my blood, and close shut the marble jaws of Oblivion.”

These were the last words of Uriel Septim VII. He told me this as he undid the gold thread of the Amulet of Kings. He thrusted it into the sack as the wall slowly slide open. I spun around on the spot as a man in red and black armour appeared. I wish I could say that the emperor went down fighting. That he bravely fought to the end but I would be doing him a dishonour. The truth is, he was ready for death. He inhaled as he braced himself for the blade that would end his life. Everything seemed to slow down for me. I ran as faster as I could but the blackened blade pierced the emperor's chest and the tip came out of his back. For added measure, the assassin plunged a dagger into his temple. At least death was quick. 

I, however, exploded at seeing his death. I tackled the scum to the ground and cast the blade to one side. “CRIMINAL. FUCKING. SCUM!” I growled as I punched his face repeatly. Anger was my ally and it possessed me. Every punch was it's word. I don't know how I killed him but it involved a lot of punching and by the time I was finished, his concealed face was more blood and bone then flesh. My fists ached and I yelled in anguish. Baurus took the emperor's death just as hard. “I've failed.” I recall him saying as he dropped to his knees. His shield rendered useless and was just a lump of wooden splinters. He had several shallow cuts around his arms and his helmet had been knocked loose. Glenroy wasn't fortunate. He went down like a soldier and had only died when a spear was thrusted through the back of his helmet. 

Thus my path began. I was charged by Uriel Septim VII to find his heir and to take care of the Amulet of Kings. Had I known what laid ahead, I would have consumed an entire brewery. He thanked me for retrieving Renault's blade and gave me the key to the sewers. There's little worth writing about. I just killed rats and goblins on my way out and upon smelling the fresh air of the lake, I collapsed to my knees. “FREEDOOOOOM” I yelled before groaning in pain. I spent a good few hours resting at the lake and tending to the bruises as best I could. I was free. I had a duty to do but first, I had to survive.


	7. A New Begining and unexpected departure.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skjari does a bit of shopping and takes an unexpected journey. She now has a sword.

After scrubbing the blood from my face and dealing with the various brusing, I greedily drank from the lake. “What to do?” I asked myself as the water lapped at my ankles. The gold amulet with the red jewel was in my hands. The Amulet of Kings, the true power of the Septim empire and the only thing that reinforced the walls of Oblivion. I wanted to hurl the thing into the lake or bury it deep. I did not want this burden. I like to think I am dutiful but at that time, I was being selfish. I was free and lost. I murdered my legate, my reputation in tatters and broke. I don't think I would be allowed to rejoin the legion.

Still, destiny is all and the Nine had chosen me. I have a mixed relationship with the gods and people ask me “Skjari, do you hate your role as the god's champion?” “Skjari, why did the gods pick you?” I did hate my role at the time but it helped me. I was foolish, impulsive at times and let my emotions cloud my judgement. As for me being chosen. Who knows? The divines don't exactly speak to me.

It was evening when I was ready to depart but where to go? I was hungry and only had 100 septims. Baurus had thanked me for retrieving Renault's sword and I did not think to retrieve the steel sword from earlier. I couldn't have, it was too far deep in my enemy.

So, I decided to take the risk of using the Imperial City. Sure, I wasn't recognisable, my hair was tattered, I reeked despite my effort to clean and only had one eye. I was bruised and the assassination was keeping everyone distracted but it wouldn't take much for the guards to compare me against the prisoner that was missing. I hoped that Baurus passed on word of my pardon.

It was odd to walk the streets of the city as a citizen. I was used to patrolling it, breaking up drunken tavern fights, stopping the odd thief but it gave me an entirely new outlook. I resembled a vagrant and the guard at the gate sneered. I came up with a half arsed lie about being attacked by bandits to explain my state and he begrudgingly accepted it. 

The city, the heart of Cyrodiil and the home to the Elder Council, The Emperors and their families, the Arcane university. It's the largest city in the province and each district is easy to defend from an invading army. The walls would be raining down arrow and magic. The spears would follow and the legionaries would form shield walls. I do not know if Tiber Septim built it with this in mind and I'm unsure if I'm correct about that but we, centurions are taught the city's weaknesses and strengths in the case of an invasion. 

The rain started to come down as the sky darkened and I recalled a cheap hotel by the waterfront. The Bloated Float. Nowadays, it's at the bottom of Lake Rumare but it was always at the waterfront. It was a ship converted into an Inn and cheap. For the price of ten septims, I could rent a room with supper. So I did just that. 

Ormil, the owner of the inn had foolishly spread a rumour about there being treasure aboard and I would find that out in the morning. It wasn't much but the chicken stew was excellent and we made small talk. I enquired about the city's various rumours whilst sitting at the basic table. It was a nice inn, if uncomfortable during storms. There was a fair amount of gossip but there was confusion about the attacks. People were saying that Uriel was dead, others claimed that he was alive. It would be a week before news officially broke of his death. 

I recall Ormil enquiring about my state and I repeated my lie about being waylaid by bandits. I retired for the night and gazed at the amulet. “So, you're key to stopping him.” I whispered as I laid back on the bed. “Damnit.” I closed my eye as I mentally recalled the best way to Chorrol. “Get to Weynon Priory and give it to our grandmaster, Jauffre.” Baurus had told me before wishing me luck. He trusted Uriel's trust in me. I doubt Glenroy would have let me go with the amulet. Had I known what laid ahead, I would have kept it on my being at all times but fate is everything.

The ship was bobbing up and down when I woke from my slumber. I could tell we were at sea as a result of my various journeys to the other provinces as part of my duties. It was nothing major, just mostly training duties, assist with bandit problems, the occasional protection, the usual. My superiors must have seen something in me, for I was repeatly chosen. Or I just pissed off a lot of them and they were happy to be rid of me for months at a time.

I opened the door to come face to face with a nord in a leather jenkin. “Who're you?” He demanded as he withdrew his steel longsword. The idiot forgot to sharpen it. I could see where the edge had dulled and he did not even consider that there were other guests on board. “What? I was told there are only two others on board. I locked the bouncer in the Storage Room and she has the owner. So that leaves you. Now, I'll ask again. Who are you?” He enquired. I was tempted to attack him. A kick to the groin, a knee and a fist to the temple would put him down but I decided to do something new. I decided to use my brain for a change. Sure, I'm smart enough to survey the conditions in battle and adjust but I wasn't really one for deception. The tactic in the ruins were just me being desperate. This? This was the first time I thought about gathering information. “I'm part of your gang. I was told to book a room and ambush the elf. I er... I got drunk and overslept.” I lied. I don't think I was that convincing or just dumb luck that worked against me .There's no one else in our group except the four of us. The Blackwater Brigands don't just take on new members out of the clear blue sky. When we formed the Brigands three months ago, I was told no more than a four way split on all the profits! So stop telling lies and tell me what you're doing here!” He demanded as he gripped the handle of his dulled sword. “Fuck. You.” I growled before headbutting him in the nose. He staggered back whilst clutching the broken nose. “You bitch!” he yelled before I grabbed his head and smashed it against the thick oak wall. I got a bit carried away. I was angry, I forgotten to exercise control in my actions. I meant to knock him out but anger dictated that I would kill him. His head was embedded in the wall. “Scum!” I spat as I rummaged through his pockets and discovered a note. 

I released the bouncer. He was a tall orc but a friendly fella. He wasn't cut out for fighting bandits and only expected to deal with drunks. These brigands were smarter then the average bandit and would have skewered him if he fought. I assured him I would save Ormil and he would stay put. I could have attempted to convince him to follow me but he would have gotten himself killed. “Oh and look after my sack.” I knew he wouldn't. He wasn't the type to give in to curiosity. The amulet was buried at the bottom of it. The jewels and goblet partially concealed it. I should have used a redcloak's hood to hide it. 

I ventured up and was confronted by a dunmer. I discovered via the note that the nord was called Lynch and her, minx “Lynch sent me up here.” I didn't bother to hide my annoyance. I was pissed at having to deal with this. I just wanted a poxy sleep! “Lynch sent you up here? Why? Did he send you to talk to Selene?" So that was their leader's name. Selene. If she thought about it, she would have known not to mention the name but then again, I was unarmed. I only had poor garments on me and resembled a beggar. “He told me that she needed assistance.“ “What does she need assistance with? She has Ormil under her own watchful eye in his cabin. Something isn't right here. What happened to Lynch?” I smiled. So, that's where she was holding him. Smart but foolish. There's only one way in if one wasn't willing to jump through glass. 

“Oh, I killed him.” I allowed her to swing her sword and caught her by the wrist. My knee hit her in the rib and I flipped her over. She didn't get to scream due to me knocking her out with a blow to the temple. “Fucking scum.” I growled. I just wanted to sleep and sell my goods, for Talos's sake! 

I made my way up to the deck and was confronted by another nord. Wraith. “The fuck you doing 'ere?” He was dumb. He was the muscle and had a battle axe in his hands. “waiting for some bloody orders! Minx said that I was to ask you.” He raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Orders? Selene didn't tell me about this, and I don't remember her taking on someone else to help us find the Gold Galleon. When did all this happen?” “Three days ago.” “Damn that woman! She promised a four part split when we recover the 'Golden Galleon'. She never said anything about splitting it five ways! She said when we got back to the safe house in Bravil, we would divide the loot after she fenced the damn thing. Do Lynch and Minx know about this?" “No. Lynch is dead and Minx is asleep.” He mentioned something about killing me to get more of the loot but I caught him off guard with a right fist. I kicked him in the groin and unleashed a volley of punches on his temple. I threw his axe overboard and finished the fight by stamping down on his ankle. Repeatly until I felt it break. It was to mostly stop him but I was allowing my anger to control me. 

So, it was time to face Selene and I swore as I realised I threw away a good weapon. I picked up Minx's steel and swore upon seeing how dull the blade was. I would have to resolve this with words. Talos guide me.

I approached the cabin and burst throw. I startled her and she demanded to know who I was. We had a nice discussion about what she intended to do and using the information I had gathered, she wisely decided that fighting me wasn't a good idea. She would have slaughtered me if she charged or thrusted but I guess, knowing her gang was beaten by one woman scared her. She handed me her blade. It was a nice blade, it had some runes along it and was enchanted. I later found out that it was enchanted to make your foe tire more easily. I sheathed it and escorted her to below deck..

Afterwards, I was thanked by Ormil and he informed me of the rumour he spread. He realised it was a bad idea and we arrived back in the Imperial City. I smiled as the gang was taken to prison and I was generously rewarded with 1000 septims. I retrieved the sack and thanked the guard. Turns out the brigands were wanted in Anvil, Bravil and in Windhelm, Skyrim. 1000 septims would last me a while and I used it to buy a pair of steel lined boots, a simple iron curiass and a pair of matching greaves. It left me with less then half left but it was good. I sold the items I found and had more then enough. I purchased a knapsack and firmly strapped it around my back. I doubt you want to hear how I made small talk, how I spent hours walking the streets. That's not what the hero of kvatch is about. No, you want to hear about Kvatch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this. It's a short tale and really, serves to set her up for Chorrol. It's based on the Unexpected Voyage quest. I've adjusted the ingame reward to 1000 septims and feel that armour would cost a lot, same with a sword. The gang, I view as very unskilled warriors thus the easy disposal of them. Next few stories will focus on Skjari's travels and Part two of A Champion's Chronicles may end with Weynon Priory. Provided I figure out if I need to do it as a seperate work but in the same series or not. 
> 
> Destiny is all.


	8. Journey to Destiny: Part One.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skjari departs on a path that begins her destiny and meets some intriguing people.

I departed the city a day later and made my way north. Armed with the blade that the woman called the Blackwater Blade and basic armour, I was ready to face my destiny. Ah, the familiar pattern of marching. It came back to me as I walked along the bridge that lead in and out of the island that the city was built on. It was designed to be defensible, to force attackers to across it and face arrow, spear, magic or try to approach from the sea and face the imperial navy. We had no idea that the defences would be cruelly bypassed. 

It took me half a day to put some distance between me and the city. I puffed my cheeks as I pondered my fate. Why me? What could one woman do? What DID he see in me? I found out and Uriel Septim VII, you bastard. He must have known what I was truly capable of and I learnt my true capabilities. Sure, I bear scars, walk with a limp as a result of it but I faced odds that no-one should have a chance of surviving. 

I walked past the abandoned fort ten miles from the city and I know, why do we allow forts to rot? To be blunt, we lacked the manpower and many were in bad shape. Several, we manned to ensure bandits would not gain an inch and the bandits that started my path had the numbers to attack a fort. 

It was late noon when I dropped my pace and felt my legs protesting. My breathing was heavy but it was mainly from a lack of practise. “Pull yourself together!” I growled at myself as I drank from my canteen and spotted a bandit with a bow out of the corner of my one good eye. I knew I was surrounded and they confirmed it. “Well, whatcha know?” The leader was a young imperial, dressed in a green leather jerkin and wore jewellery as a sign of pride. “an ugly fool is using my road.” The gang laughed at his words. Two to the right. I was trained to assess the situation and I could use sounds to detect my foes. Two more to the left. Three ahead and 4 behind. Play for time. I slowly lowered my canteen. “Good.” His accent was from the goldcoast. His hair was slicked back and was as yellow as the sun. “Now, here's the rules.” He leapt down from the ruined wall to the right side of the road. They were armed with bows and only three had swords. 

“Ah, the quiet type.” He smugly retorted to another round of jeers. “You pay me.....” he looked up at the sky whilst patronisingly thinking of a figure to charge me. “three hundred coins and your sack, sword and armour if you don't want to be killed.” I grinned. “Three hundred, huh?” I mused as I formed a plan in my head. 

Strike fast. Dead. Roll. Dead. Charge. Dead. Fuck. Dead. I had to play for time but bandits are not renowned for their bravery, aside from numbers. “I don't have it but you can have the sword and the sack.” I forced myself to be polite with my voice. “Oooo, hear that, lads? She says we can have the sword and sack.” They laughed. “You're funny, so tell ya what, I'll leave you the armour, minus your eye.” He slowly withdrew his steel longsword and the idiot had decorated with jewels along the blade. The sword was skyrim steel and much more durable, much more sharper then the imperial stuff but he added gems to it. It damaged the balance and weighed it down. In a fight, a sword's weight and balance can spell the difference between victory and death. 

So, he was he type of bandit to enact harm for harm's sake. I would be damned if I let a pissant like him take the amulet. He was going to blind me and he had me surrounded. Twelve vs one and I was wearing iron. Shit.

I had to shock them. I had to stun them for a few seconds to make my escape. So I did. I quickly whipped the sword out in a vicious swipe from the sheath to his right eye and stabbed him repeatly. I plunged my thumb into his left eye and pressed it down until I felt it burst like a grape. His screams filled the air and my gambit worked. “Fuck!” one of them shouted as I barrelled out of there.

It was night when I came back. I spent the rest of the day planning my attack because I am not letting bastards like that live. It was a stupid move but it was my duty and good practise. They had a camp to the west and I stalked them. The Blackwater Blade had an enchantment and it drained one's endurance. It tires you out and makes me feel refreshed. Or rather, it did until it was destroyed. I still have the hilt to this very day.

Their camp was poorly defended and I couldn't mount a direct assault. Not yet. Many people will tell you tales about how Skjari charged shield walls and broke them. How she slaughtered our enemies. They will add their own twist and hundred becomes thousands. My favourite tale is about me single handedly fighting off the entire horde at Bruma. 

So, I decided to be their worst fucking nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Hope you enjoyed this! Just a minor bandit encounter and admittly, me wanting to show a side that isn't pure rambo. Ok, not rambo directly but more predator or Batpredator type stuff. Next chapter will purely be the bandit tale then I hope to reach Weynon priory. I'm gonna end part one at it and part two will pick up from Kvatch. I do not wish to write filler and the battle for Kvatch is the meat of the next part.


	9. Destruction of CRIMINAL SCUM!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BY GAWD! SKJARI BOMB! SKJARI-BOMB! BY GAWD! WHAT A SLOBBERKNOCKER! 
> 
> Skjari embraces the darkness as her ally.

I know what you are wondering, Skjari, you broke the shield wall at Kvatch. You charged in and destroyed the Daedra's line. Why did you resort to being sneaky on bandits? The answer is simple. I did not have armour that I trusted. At Kvatch, it was a fight forced on me and we had no choice. Here? I chose the battlefield and admittly, I was eager to try something new.

The sky was dark and the air was calm. The smell from the grass filled my nostrils as I mapped out the area in my head. It was a piss poor camp and in the legion, that would have gotten the entire century on punishment duty. No sentries, no defences and out in the open. They felt their numbers were enough and their bows were enough to make me go with a new tactic. 

I crawled along the ground to avoid being spotted. Their camp wasn't far but the dark worked in my favour. I spotted a bandit taking a leak away from it and I slowly made my way. My blade slowly came out of it's sheath as I got into a crouch and I thrusted it. The tip pentrated his leather jerkin and I allowed him to scream. I rapidly stabbed him and threw him to the ground. I retreated and waited for some time to pass. Then I struck again.

The second bandit didn't get the chance to scream as the blade went through her throat and I assisted her to the ground. I hacked the head off and I was proud of the Blackwater Blade. “Hmm.” I circled the camp to see how best to scare them and found the perfect angle. A small ruined wall that would conceal me whilst hurling it and I did. I threw the head like a trebuchet and it landed in their cooking pot. I heard them swear and I retreated. The next two deaths were gruesome. I cut off the third's hands and left leg, using his screaming to lure the fourth and his friend saw his entrails. I used them to strangle him whilst growling “Criminal fucking scum.” 

I slowly picked them off, one by one in vicious ways until there was one left. The bosmer was scared shitless and fired his arrows at any sounds. I was proud of my attack and fear was my ally. I revealed myself to him and his arrows went wide. I slowly walked with the blade out and I must have put on a fierce expression for he kept backing away until he was in front of his camp's fire. “CRIMINAL. SCUM!” I yelled with a boot to his groin and I sheathed my blade. My arms went around his waist in order to lift him up and I threw him into the fire. I watched as he writhed around in the flames. It was foolish of me and cruel for the sake of cruelty. I should have just killed him cleanly but bandits are scum and they picked on the wrong person. So, I continued my journey north.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I couldn't help myself with a powerbomb into the fire. Not exactly realistic but this is a bit of a filler story. Next one is the last of Part one. I hope to be a bit quicker with part two due to there being more to work with and write about. The journey is rather dull for me to write. So enjoy!


	10. Weynon Priory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Hero is about to rise. The Amulet of Kings is safe and a Bastard is to be found. Skjari's rise begins soon.

It was night when I arrived at Weynon Priory and the wind was fierce. The rain was heavy and I was soaked through. The sound of the rain bouncing off the iron was my sole companion. It reminded me of home, when Skyrim was in a foul mood. The stonework was faint in the dark but I could just about make it out. The lights shone brightly through the decorative windows of the house. The priory was just like every other priory, abeit a lot larger and complete with it's own farm. Hidden in plain sight, the crafty bastards.

I walked up to the oak door and knocked on it three times. A balding monk answered it whilst yawning. “Ah, greetings, how may I be of service?” His eyes betrayed his years of service as a Blade. You can hide your appearance, you can speak differently but soldiers have stubborn traits. He was examining me to determine if I was a threat and the quickest way to take me down. “I need to speak to Jauffre.” I responded as he ushered me inside and offered me a place by the fire. I accepted and sat down. 

I must have doozed off, for it was dawn when he arrived. He was in his late 50s and completely bald. The breton barely resembled a soldier and it was the point. Everything he did, he did with purpose to hide his true occupation as Grandmaster of the Blades. To most, he is just head of the order of Talos, a peaceful order dedicated to Talos worship. 

“Jauffre.” I rummaged through the sack and retrieved the amulet of Kings. “The emperor sent me with this.” He frowned. “Explain yourself.” He demanded and so, I explained everything. “As unlikely as your story seems, only the strange fate of Uriel would bring you to me.” He poured me some wine. We were in his office and it had been a few hours. “So, where do we find this heir?” I enquired. The wine was bitter but warming. “He's at Kvatch, as a brother.” He explained how Uriel summoned him during his time as Captain of the Imperial Guard and hid the bastard away. He would check up on him from time to time. “Kvatch.” I repeated. “I shall march there at once.” He revealed that he had a chest for travelling blades and I helped myself to some supplies. “Remember, find him at once and protect him at all costs.” We knew what was at stake and didn't need reminding but it was a reminder regardless. If I failed, we would all be dead. If I succeeded, we had a hope. Little did we know that the Oblivion Crisis was beginning with one nasty awakening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for this godawful story. It's been causing me issues all week as i've struggled to pad it out and really, all it is serving to do is move it along. This is the end of Part 1. Part two is coming and I promise, it will be far better. Kvatch will burn.


End file.
